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Literature Text
He searches
but cannot find her
across the vast
and bleached white sheets.
He's looking for the curve
of her hip
and she eludes him
like a blessing.
For the moment
they are without self-interest
though naked in repose
she cannot let him in.
Sleep invades the crevices
of her brain
as the day
slides into nothingness.
Learning the lines to a poem
she is writing
the words slip away
with the world.
He is a thread
of conspicuous absences
(at least to the
quiet observer)
She is free to
fathom the facets
of love made pure
by truth.
Never a bride in a hall
she did not write
a letter of promise.
He looks up
and asks for a miracle.
but cannot find her
across the vast
and bleached white sheets.
He's looking for the curve
of her hip
and she eludes him
like a blessing.
For the moment
they are without self-interest
though naked in repose
she cannot let him in.
Sleep invades the crevices
of her brain
as the day
slides into nothingness.
Learning the lines to a poem
she is writing
the words slip away
with the world.
He is a thread
of conspicuous absences
(at least to the
quiet observer)
She is free to
fathom the facets
of love made pure
by truth.
Never a bride in a hall
she did not write
a letter of promise.
He looks up
and asks for a miracle.
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This poem reflects a day I spent photographing a very authentic wedding; one for which I do not predict divorce... or at least not for decades to come. There is love there. There is mutual respect. Mutual fun. Mutual weirdness. Absolutely necessary elements of harmony. I usually dislike weddings because they just seem sort of empty and dare fate to take a course other than the vows try so hard to declare. But after this particular wedding, I, instead, looked closer at my disdain for the ritual. It's not about marriage itself. It's about people and their decisions. About my own decisions and social responsibilities. About this next generation that feels liberated from that responsibility or at least more so than my generation and previous ones. Finally, this poem was generated in my half-sleep: it is amazing how huge a king bed can be when you have lost your ability to relate to the person sleeping next to you.
© 2016 - 2024 myfallfromgrace
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